


En Pointe

by threetwowonwoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Kai, Dancing, Gen, Love Confessions, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:34:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threetwowonwoo/pseuds/threetwowonwoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin was an amazing dancer, and I loved watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	En Pointe

He was a wonderful dancer. No one dared to doubt his abilities. His body spoke a language different to everyone else’s, but still entrancing to the eyes. I loved watching him, either in practice or backstage during shows. Christmas recitals were always a thing in our academy, and I’d always find a way to escape the makeup artists, even for a few minutes, just to see him perform from behind the heavy red curtains of the theatre.  
  
I could tell by the slight furrow between his eyebrows that surfaced as he slowly began to feel more confident with his onstage personality that letting go of his mind wasn’t an easy thing for him. Yet it usually didn’t take long until he was completely hypnotized by the beat and his body started to work on its own, the bass drum making an undeniable invitation for his feet to glide and land in a less delicate way than he did in his pointe.  


As exciting as seeing him dance to hip hop was, ballet was my favorite style. He wasn’t only in control; he was control, pushing everyone to their limits with his imposing presence. Unlike other dancers, his moves didn’t look forced. He was focused, but not tense. Even his hands were relaxed, his fingers slightly curling, one hand gently gripping the barre.  
— _Demi-plié_ , _relevé_ —the instructor said, and I stole glances of him mouthing the words as he followed the steps.  
We had practiced this choreography dozens of times, repeated the same sequence over and over again, to the point where everyone could do it asleep. We were expected to. I was in the back, and even though the audience’s eyes weren’t going to be fixed on me, I had to work as hard as the others.  
— Good —she smiled—. Now, from the beginning.  
Jongin moved to the front of the room, his reflection on the mirror making mine look too small. He stood straight, his heels touching, and slowly dragged his right foot to the side of his knee, not losing balance for one second in a perfect _passé_.  
Everyone would think Jongin didn’t even try to dance; that he was a natural. It wasn’t true. He had to work hard to become the excellent dancer he was. And no matter how good, he’d always push himself closer to the edge every class in order to achieve perfection. Sadly, nothing was ever perfect, and it took only one second of hesitation to ruin a whole performance.  
He licked his lips and looked up, but to no one other than himself. I watched him as he extended his arms and turned to face his partner. But not even then he was paying attention to her; his eyes were unfocused and he seemed to be staring into space.  
I wondered if Jongin ever actually looked at anyone.

 

 

The curtains parted, creating a gap that grew bigger in size and showed the dancers in beautiful, sequined outfits to the audience. He joined his partner on the center of the stage and bowed, before taking her hand and escorting her to the front, showing her and himself off to everyone who watched. He wore a black jacket with golden details on the sleeves, the neck and buttons. His hair was pushed back with gel. There was glitter on the corner of his eyes, and the makeup artists had done an amazing job with his eyeliner.  
The younger dancers came into view from one side of the stage, moving towards the center in _bourré en couru_ , encircling the two main characters and then disappearing on the other side.  
Jongin tried to catch her as she followed them, begging for her not to leave him. In a few seconds, the spotlight was all his. He raised his leg and brought it down in a sharp movement. The dancer took a deep breath, but only those who were watching him backstage noticed it. A _grand jeté_ followed, and I could see the veins of his neck as he jumped, the yellow light gently brushing his skin. He landed gracefully without a sound, an almost imperceptible grin on his face.  
The danseur was a candle in the black darkness of the tree patterned background, the flame burning slowly and getting bigger with every step. Beads of sweat started running down his throat, and I saw his fingers trembling for a second as he moved in chain turns, patiently waiting for the orchestra to give him his cue to begin with fouettés.  
He extended his arms as the piece reached its peak, swinging his right leg in front of him. Jongin started to spin.  
One, two, three, four.  
His lips were parted. His muscles flexed under the thin fabric of his clothes. No one seemed to notice his frown: they were too fascinated by the way he violently lashed the air to gain speed. I could almost hear the cracking sound reverberating in the theatre.  
Five, six, seven, eight.  
His body seemed to be struck by lightning as he turned and picked up the pace, following the allegro, led by the strings in front of the audience. The dancer then got that look again, the same one I’d seen every time during practice. He had stopped paying attention to his surroundings, and he was willing to burn every fiber of his body in the fire of his heart, if that was the price to become one with the piece. He didn’t seem to mind the possibility of messing up, because when he was powered by his blazing soul, there was no way on Earth he could make a mistake.  
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.  
Thick strands of hair stuck to his forehead, and the loose ones looked like tiny flames that licked the air in compass with the gleeful melody in the background.  
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.  
Jongin went up and down. Even though he must’ve been exhausted, he kept spinning with a finesse and fragility that didn’t really fit with the strength he put into keeping his balance on the tip of his toes. Every soul in the auditorium held their breaths.  
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.  
For an instant, I thought I had seen fragments of him falling off along with the glitter, getting lost in their way to the floor. Everyone watching wanted to burn with him, because we all wanted to feel at least a bit of the magic Jongin was.  
Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four,  
My heart raced with every turn, and it skipped a beat when he looked like he was about to fall. The audience gazed at him from their seats, expectant.  
Twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight.  
His hair was a mess at this point. His breath escaped his mouth in white spirals, and it was immediately left behind. His surroundings seemed to be frozen, and the only thing that stretched that disturbing peace for what seemed like eternity was him.  
Twenty nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty two _fouettés en tournant_.

The music stopped a split second after him. He raised his arms, panting, indicating his spectacle had come to an end. The spectators broke the silence with uproarious applause, and with it, the tension in Jongin’s shoulders vanished into thin air. He bowed, and I wished I was on the other side to see the gleaming smile he had to be showing the audience. A sudden feeling of disappointment invaded me after realizing it was over.  
I felt pathetic. I wasn’t more than one of the many witnesses of such a marvel, and I would have to wait another twenty four hours to experience that thrill again. A whole day to feel my hands prickling with the desire to reach for him again. A whole day to now allow myself to do it.  


 

The sequins weighed on his shoulders the day of our last performance. Starting the next day, I’d have to go back to the boring routine that killed me slowly every day.  
But I couldn’t let that thought distract me from the scene in front of me. It made my knees weak like the first day, and even though I wasn’t afraid of collapsing anymore, I still felt unable to catch my breath until his part concluded.  
The recital had received great reviews from local newspapers, and in a few hours the tickets for our final night sold out.  
Jongin had danced exceptionally well this time, even better than in the past shows. After the curtains closed, indicating the end of the first act, the applause on the other side stopped.  
He was showered in compliments backstage, and he accepted them graciously.  
— Congratulations. That was amazing —I said, patting his back.  
— Thank you —he replied, turning his head. He flashed a charming smile at me.

For some reason, I felt something inside of me crumbling. I quickly made my way through the crowd towards Jongin’s dressing room, knowing I was using the only chance I had. All I needed was to see him like that, so ethereal and inviting. The shimmer of the sweat on his face tempted me to let my guard down for a moment and trace the line of his bare collarbones with my fingers. He had triggered an avalanche of unresolved feelings that took my breath away.  
— Jongin —I called. I regretted it immediately—. Do you have a minute?  
— Sure —he smiled, taking a sip of his water bottle.  
Was I really going to do it? I wondered if his smile veiled his suspicion of what I was about to say.  
— I’ve liked you for some time, and I think you should know.  
There was no answer. I thought he didn’t hear me, yet the knot in my stomach wasn’t going to let me repeat it. I feared the worst. Then I remembered I had promised him it wouldn’t take more than a minute. I was running out of time and Jongin needed to get some rest before the second act.  
— By the looks of it you don’t feel the same —I played with the hem of my sleeve to hide my shaking hands—. It’s okay, I just wanted you to know.  
I smiled at him and raised my eyes to the fluorescent tube on the wall next to him, in an attempt to stop my tears from escaping my eyes. I turned on my heel and headed towards the rest of the group was. Then, I felt a hand sitting hesitantly on my shoulder.  
—Wait. Uh… How about we grab something to eat after this?  
It was surprising to see him faltering, to say the least. The man looking at me was very different compared to the Jongin who had stolen the show and the audience’s hearts minutes ago. His eyes burned holes through mine, a prayer for an answer engraved on his pupils.  
— Okay – I smiled.  
— I really have to go now, I have to get ready.  
He pulled his hand back, and I could feel his fingertips brushing against the sheer fabric on my shoulders.  
— Good luck.  
— You too —he opened the door as I walked away from him—. By the way…  
— Yes?  
He smirked.  
— I already knew you liked me. I’ve seen you staring.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. Please leave a comment, I'd love to know your opinion!


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